Dialogue From Facebook.

I've been involved in an interesting dialogue over on Facebook about issues surrounding our way of life that I'm moving over here. Below is the latest response:

Rob wrote: "This is a toughy. I appreciate the point regarding primitive tribes. I believe that one of "civilized man's" biggest mistakes has to be in the attempt to indoctrinate those they believe to be less than "civilized" into a culture they believe to be in fact "civilized." You have pointed out one of the tremendous flaws in the endeavor, that being that primitive tribes are essentially happy with the way they are and never did require "intervention," regardless of the intent. Evolution is not always pretty though. (As a side note, this is my primary issue with missionaries - and I generally wince at the term "primitive," though I understand the context here - English is extremely limited in it's allowance for variety in cultures)

"You've raised a number of issues, and I've just touched on one, and I want to get to the work issue, but I keep running out of room. Annie says you have a blog? Where is it?"

Sense of Urgency

I have felt a sense of urgency for quite some time now. Actually ever since I read "Ishmael", which has been close to ten years now. I ran across these words in "Pornography and Silence", by Susan Griffin that I think explains the mechanics behind this sense of urgency I feel every morning.

To make the heart retreat long enough so that the body, which perhaps has reached a fever pitch, can “release” sensation. And yet we must not be too quick to believe that this “urgency,” and this “release,” this fever pitch, this demandingness, belong to the body alone. For the separation between the body and mind is unnatural. The body speaks the language of the soul. In the body’s fevered longing is perhaps a deep desire for that part of the self which has been sacrificed, a desire for that self to come to consciousness, to be remembered. For an experience of the heart is also an experience of the mind. The body and heart cry out like a long neglected child, pleading, “Pay attention to me.” pg. 86